


Summer Fun, Ninja Style

by hummerhouse



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Ninja, Rescue, Surfing, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 01:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16075700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummerhouse/pseuds/hummerhouse
Summary: Disclaimer: The TMNT are not mine. No money being made.Word Count: 4,373 One shot 2k3Summary: A night at the beach for some surfing fun is interrupted by something very serious.  That doesn't mean that ninjas can't enjoy their work.Rated: PG-13Written for the Sweet Summer Sundays Fanbook.  Read it and any of the other fan made fanbooks onThe Ninja Archive!!~~Winnerin the TMNT Universal Reader’s Choice Awards 2018: (General Ballot) Most In-Character Donatello 2nd Place~~!!





	Summer Fun, Ninja Style

            New York City and the surrounding area had its share of beaches, most of them attractive and all of them off-limits during the daytime to mutated turtles.

            At night it was a different matter.  Though some beaches, like the one at Coney Island for instance, were still popular with the human crowd, others grew deserted as the sun set.

            Turtles like water and the teenage mutant ninja variety were no different.  When summer hit and the heat index rose, the call of the water was very nearly too hard to resist.

            Brighton Beach, in Brooklyn, was the spot the turtles usually chose.  It was a favorite of the locals and when night fell, they tended to drift over to Coney Island, leaving the beach devoid of humans.

            The temperatures were reaching into the nineties during the day and only dropping into the eighties at night.  Looking for both relief from the heat and a chance for some fun, the turtle brothers piled into their moving van and drove out to the beach.

            It was a little after midnight when they reached their destination.  After doing a slow drive-by to ensure themselves that their favorite spot was unoccupied, they found a place to park and piled out of the van.

            Since salt water and sand were not good for their weapons, the turtles left them in the van.  The brothers each had their own surfboards and Michelangelo happily traded his nunchakus for his brightly colored board.  He was more than ready to school his brothers on the waves.

            Donatello carried his duffel bag across the sand and set it down just beyond the reach of the lapping water.  He’d removed most of the usual contents in order to make room for their towels.

            Surfing wasn’t allowed at Brighton Beach, but those rules only applied to the human population.  The nearest destination for board riders was Rockaway Beach, which meant that any night gatherings would be happening far from the spot the turtles had chosen.

            Mikey plunged into the water first, swiftly followed by Don and Raphael.  After taking a last long look around, Leonardo waded into the ocean behind his brothers.

            All four paddled out around the breaking waves to a good taking-off spot.  After watching a few sets roll in, they noted where the curl of the waves began.  By unspoken agreement the three older brothers stayed back to allow Mikey to ride the first wave.

            Mikey began paddling fast, matching his timing to the swell.  The wave picked him up and then he started to slide down its face.  Once he was a little under the lip, Mikey popped up to a stand, perfectly balanced to ride the wave.

            There was something rather magnificent about seeing Michelangelo backlit by the moon as he skimmed along the top of the water.  No matter how hard they tried, none of his brothers could match the appearance of effortless grace that their youngest brother managed.

            One by one the other turtles caught waves and rode them back to the shore.  The tremendous rush that came from harnessing the power of the water had all four brothers grinning widely as they met back up on the sand.

            “Now that was one radical ride dudes!” Mikey exclaimed enthusiastically.  “Totally tubular!”

            Raph grimaced at Mikey’s use of the English language, but chose not to chastise him.  For one thing, he was too relaxed and for another, he had a sneaking suspicion that Mikey talked like that just to get under his skin.

            “The waves are nice tonight,” Don said as he scanned the water.

            “I’m heading out again,” Mikey said.  “You guys with me?”

            He barely waited for his brothers’ responses before snatching up his board and jogging towards the ocean.  Leo had just started to follow him when he suddenly stopped and cocked his head to one side.

            Familiar with Leo’s body language, Raph immediately knew something was up and whistled softly, getting the attention of both Don and Mikey.  The latter exited the water quietly, recognizing both the warning and that his older brother seemed to be hearing something.

            They all heard it then; the unmistakable sounds of voices coming from somewhere farther down the beach.  Though the turtles couldn’t quite make out any words, the tone of one of those voices was distinctly frightened.

            Raph stepped up next to Leo.  “We gonna investigate?”

            His brother nodded.  “It sounds as if they’re at the old pier.”

            “The city closed that pier two years ago for safety reasons,” Don said.  “No one should be there at this time of night.”

            “Guess someone forgot to tell them that,” Mikey said.

            “Leave the boards flat on the sand so they won’t be seen,” Leo told them.  “We’ll approach these people from the water so we can reconnoiter.”

            The brothers slipped silently into the ocean, moving past the first sandbar so that they would be in water deep enough to fully submerge themselves.  After swimming underwater until they were near the pier, Leo was the first to lift his head above water.  All four turtles remained close to each other while they surveyed the scene.

            At the end of the pier, where it jutted out over the water, were four men.  Two of them were holding onto a bound man, while the fourth stood in front of the captive, a gun in his hand.

            Back along the pier, at its entrance, stood another man who appeared to be acting as a lookout.  The gate that was meant to barricade the pier stood open, a good indication that its lock had been forced.  Several yards farther back was a parked car, its engine off.

            The man holding onto the captive’s left arm looked at the gunman and said, “Он не будет говорить.”

            Leo glanced at Don.  “Russian,” Don whispered, responding to the unasked question.  “He said that the man they’re holding won’t talk.”

            Smiling wickedly, the gunman replied, “Он будет, если он будет правильно мотивирован, Егор.”

            “’He will if he’s properly motivated, Yegor,’” Don translated.

            “I don’t know what you want me to say,” the captive said.  “I’m not who you think I am, Evsei.”

            Evsei shook his head before doubling his fist and hitting the captive in his stomach.  The man gasped, slumping forward and coughing as he tried to regain his breath.

            “Anton, if that is even your name, you know that isn’t what I want to hear,” Evsei said, reverting to English.  “How much information about our business enterprise have you passed along?”

            Raph growled low in his throat.  “Russian Mafia.  They own Brighton Beach.”

            “I’ve said nothing!” Anton exclaimed.  “You’ve mixed me up with someone else!”

            Evsei slugged him in the mouth, splitting the man’s lip.  “That is what I do to a lying mouth,” he said.  “I know you have a badge, Anton.  Ten months I’ve treated you like family, and all the time you were stabbing us in the back.”

            “Anton is a cop,” Mikey hissed.  “Oh man, this is so not good.”

            The man holding Anton’s right arm said, “If he won’t talk, we will have to move everything.”

            “Thank you, Pavel.  I wouldn’t have known that if you hadn’t told me,” Evsei said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

            “You’re going to kill me no matter what I say,” Anton said.

            “Of course I am,” Evsei said.  “It’s only a question of whether you die quick, or you suffer first.”

            “The boss is a poet with the knife,” Pavel said, appearing delighted at the prospect of seeing a performance.

            “He knows just where to cut you so you feel the most pain,” Yegor said.

            Evsei leaned close to his captive.  “Your flayed skin will make it easier for the fish to eat you.”

            “Dudes, we need to put a stop to this,” Mikey said, somewhat unnecessarily.

            “There’s four of ‘em,” Raph said.  “One apiece.”

            “Five,” Leo said.  He was staring at the car.  “They’ve got a driver.”

            “How can ya’ tell from here?” Raph asked, frowning as he too surveyed the car.

            “He’s smoking.  Every time he inhales you can see the glow from the end of his cigarette,” Leo said.  “Also, he’s got his window open enough to let smoke through.”

            Almost as if to prove his point, a thin trail of cigarette smoke curled up from the window on the driver’s side of the car.

            “Okay, slightly more complex, but still doable,” Raph said.  “Jump the guys on the pier, grab the cop and take off before the other two can react.”

            “And how do we get to them before they shoot the officer?” Leo asked.  “We’re fast, but we can’t outrun a bullet.”

            Raph scowled as he thought about what Leo said.  He had to admit his brother had a point; despite the fact that Evsei was beating on the officer, his gun never wavered and it was aimed directly at Anton’s head.

            “Have you got a plan, Leo?” Don asked.

            After studying the beach line nearest the pier for a moment, Leo said, “We need to do something . . . unexpected.  Mikey, it’s up to you to take care of the guard near the gate.  Just beyond the car are lavatories.  Lure the guard in that direction and take him out of the equation.

“Donny, you deal with the guy in the car.  Once he’s incapacitated, turn on the headlights.”

“While they’re doing that?” Raph asked.

            “You and I are going to get into position on the pier,” Leo said.  “As soon as the three men holding the officer are distracted by the headlights, we move in fast.  I’ll focus on Evsei and his gun if you deal with the other two men.”

            “Be happy to,” Raph said.

            “Sure would be nice if we had our weapons,” Mikey said.

            “Time to improvise, Mikey.  Come on,” Don said as he ducked back under water and swam towards the pier pilings that were closest to the beach.

            “Gotta second Mikey on that one,” Raph told Leo as they watched the other two turtles swim away.  “If I had my sai I could peg that Evsei guy’s gun hand without even having to show myself.”

            “We’ll just have to use the element of surprise,” Leo said.  “There’s no time to go back for our weapons.”

            He dove underwater and Raph followed suit.  Together they swam towards the far end of the pier, each hoping they’d be in time to save the undercover officer.

            Don and Mikey surfaced on either side of a piling.  They were in shallow water now, but out of sight under the pier.

            “You’ll have to deal with the guard first,” Don whispered.  “If he’s still standing by the gate when the headlights come on, he’s more likely to go to his boss’s aid than to check on the driver.  He’s probably armed.”

            “I’ll get him to investigate the bathrooms,” Mikey said, keeping his voice down.  “Once he’s out of the picture, I’ll signal you with a gull call.”

            “When I hear you, I’ll deal with the driver and hit the headlights,” Don said.  “Then both of us should get to the pier and back up our bro’s.”

            Mikey slipped out of the water, remaining low to the ground as he dashed across the sand.  About thirty yards from the pier entrance was a wooden ramp that led to a small raised building housing two restroom facilities.

            Ducking into the men’s side first, Mikey saw that it contained urinals along one wall, each separated by short partitions.  There was one stall at the back, but a large hole had been punched into the wall and there was nowhere for a ninja turtle to hide.

            Leaving the men’s room, Mikey tried the women’s room next and saw right away that it would suit his purpose.  There were four stalls, each with walls that reached nearly to the floor and they all had intact doors.

            Now to attract the guard’s attention.  Mikey had been very careful to make no noise as he went through doors while searching for a good place to set up an ambush.  Silence was no longer necessary, in fact it would be a detriment to his plans.

            The salty beach air had warped most of the doors and rusted their hinges.  Mikey slowly pulled the entry door all of the way open, causing the hinges to squeak rather loudly.  When the door was back as far as it would go, Mikey repeated the process, making certain to close the door with an audible click.

            He counted to ten, and then opened the door partway.  Peeking through the gap, Mikey saw that the guard had been alerted by the noise and was approaching.  Unfortunately, he was also carrying a gun.

            Mikey’s first thought had been to hide in a stall and wait for the man to push the door open and investigate.  When he did, Mikey would have grabbed him, knocked him out, and left him draped over the toilet.

            That gun changed Mikey’s plan.  If it went off, whether or not Mikey got himself shot, it would alert the other mobsters.

            Scanning the restroom quickly, Mikey realized he didn’t have many options for concealing himself.  Then he looked up and smiled.  The art of concealment for a ninja often meant hiding in plain sight.

            The door was suddenly kicked open and the first thing across the threshold was the gun.  Entering cautiously, the guard did a visual sweep of the room, his gun up and his finger close to the trigger.

            Seeing no one, the guard next approached the stalls.  At each one he braced himself and shoved the door open, his gun pointed squarely at the center point of the stall.

            After he verified that all four were empty, he frowned and lowered the gun.  “Must have been the wind,” he muttered to himself.

            Tucking the gun into his belt, he walked back towards the entrance.  Just as he reached it, a large muscular figure detached itself from the ceiling and dropped on top of him.

            The guard hit the floor with a hundred and eighty pound weight riding his shoulders all of the way down.  As he tried to lift his head, Mikey grasped the back of his skull and slammed the guard’s forehead against the floor.

            It all happened so fast that the man didn’t even have time to cry out.  Mikey rolled the unconscious man over and took his gun, walking over to a stall and dropping the weapon into the toilet.  Then he removed the man’s belt and used it to secure his hands to a pipe underneath the sink.  For good measure, Mikey took off the man’s shoes and used his shoelaces to bind his ankles.

            After shoving the man’s socks into his mouth, Mikey was satisfied that his captive was out of the picture for the night.  Going to the door, he signaled to Don that the coast was clear.

            Squatting underneath the pier, Don heard his brother.  The sound that Mikey made was more like a cross between a barn owl and a gull, but since it hadn’t seemed to alert the car’s driver, it didn’t matter.  The man in the car probably didn’t know the difference between a hooting owl and a barking dog anyway.

            Approaching the car was tricky.  Since it was pointed towards the pier, moving in front of it meant becoming visible to the men holding the police officer.  If Don moved around the car from behind, then he risked being seen in the side view mirror.

            Making his choice, Don dropped onto the sand and crawled up to the car.  He kept to a near snail’s pace so that his movements wouldn’t catch the corner of anyone’s eye.  When he was close the car, he looked towards the men on the pier, waiting until Evsei had struck the officer again before lunging past the front fender.

            Crouching against the front driver’s side tire, Don stared at the window until he saw smoke drift through the opening.  Sure now that the driver hadn’t become aware of his presence, Don crept forward until he was below the window.

            Reaching up, he gave a firm push to the side view mirror, angling it just enough so that the driver couldn’t see him.  Then Don used the tips of his fingers to lightly tap the side panel.

            Nothing happened.  Listening carefully, Don heard music coming from inside the car and realized the driver probably hadn’t heard him.

            He wanted the driver curious, not on his guard.  If Don tapped harder he might find a gun pointed at his face.

            Time was running out and Don really needed that driver’s window to come down.  Since the guy couldn’t hear anything louder than a freight whistle, Don chose to appeal to one of the man’s other senses.

            Gathering up a palm full of sand, Don tossed it at the window.

            “What the . . . ?” the driver exclaimed.

           Don braced himself as the window control whirred to life and the glass came down.  A second later, the driver stuck his head out to look around.

           Shooting up from his squatting position, Don smashed the driver’s jaw with a hard uppercut.  The man’s head rocked back, connected with the door frame, and then he slumped against the seat.

           Quickly opening the door, Don checked the man’s vitals and verified that he was out cold.

           “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that smoking is bad for your health?” Don asked as he took the burning cigarette butt off of the man’s pant leg and dropped it on the sand.  Then he dragged the man from the car and deposited him next to it.

           Don swiftly searched the car to see if there was anything he could use to secure the man and discovered that there were zip ties in the glove compartment.  He used a couple of them to bind the driver’s wrists and ankles and then slid the rest into his belt.

           Glancing at the dashboard clock, Don saw that just eight minutes had passed since the brothers had split up.  It had felt much longer and he could only imagine that to the undercover officer, eight minutes must have seemed like an eternity.

           Reaching into the car, Don turned the brightness control knob to high beam and switched on the headlights.

           When Leo and Raph reached the end of the pier, they separated.  Raph swam around to the other side so that he could come up behind the two goons holding the undercover officer.  Leo’s position would give him access to the gun toting Evsei.

           Anton’s scream of pain was a good indication that the Russian Mafia leader was making good on his threat to begin cutting the man.  Leo needed for Don and Mikey to be careful, but he hoped they could be quick as well.  There was no telling how long Evsei’s patience would last.

           Another scream, this time followed by a low groan, and then a thump.  Leo climbed the nearest piling so that he could see what they were doing to the officer.  Anton hung in the arms of his captors, trails of blood seeping from cuts just below his collar bone and his stomach.

           “You see Anton, I know just where to inflict the cuts so that you do not pass out,” Evsei said.  “The worst kind of pain is the kind where there is a short lull.  You have just a moment to recover and then it hits you again.  Never once does your body signal that it would be best to slip into blessed unconsciousness.”

           “I have . . . nothing . . . to tell you,” Anton said, panting heavily.  “I am not . . . a cop.”

           From just below the level of their conversation, Leo heard a slight clicking sound.  Looking across the pier, he saw Raphael staring at him.

           Ducking down so he could look under the pier, Leo watched as Raph did the same.  Holding up one hand, Raph used their private sign language to ask, _“How long?”_

           Anton screamed again and Leo could see Raph’s grimace.  He was hating this.  So was Leo, but he had confidence that their brothers wouldn’t be much longer.

            _“Be ready,”_ Leo signed back.  It wasn’t an answer, just a guarantee that they would move soon.

           It seemed to satisfy Raph, who moved back into position.  As Leo peeked over the edge of the pier and saw a thin line of blood sliding down Anton’s cheekbone, he began to feel the same sense of agitation that Raph had displayed.

           “I think I will remove an eyelid next,” Evsei said.  “You keep closing your eyes and ignoring me.  I don’t like that.”

           He nodded to Pavel and Yegor.  One of them grabbed Anton’s head to steady it, while the other reached for his eyelid.

           In that moment, bright headlights illuminated the scene.

           Leo vaulted over the railing, landing next to Evsei and shoving the man’s gun hand skyward.  The gun went off and then Leo wrenched it out of Evsei’s hand and tossed it into the water.

           Evsei slashed at Leo’s chest with his knife, but the blade skittered ineffectively across the tough plates on his plastron.  Then he swung the knife at Leo’s head, but the turtle ducked under the blade and quickly landed a hard kidney punch to Evsei’s side.

           The punch bent Evsei and Leo slapped the knife out of his hand.  Groaning, Evsei launched himself at Leo, who sidestepped and slammed a fist into the man’s temple.

           There was a very satisfying _thump_ as Evsei hit the pier like a sack of potatoes and didn’t move.

           As soon as the lights came on, Raph was moving.

           His entire focus was on the two men holding Anton.  They were both big and thick with muscles, just the type that Raph enjoyed taking down.  Normally he would have indulged himself and given them a chance to make a fight of it.

           Tonight he couldn’t do that.  Not with Anton’s life hanging in the balance.

           Leaping onto the pier, Raph bounded into the air and grasped the men’s heads before smashing them together.  Yegor’s eyes rolled back and he slumped onto the pier, completely unconscious.

           Pavel shouted an obscenity, dropped Anton, and spun on his attacker.  Raph grinned as Pavel charged at him.  Bellowing like a raging bull, Pavel swung a large meaty fist at Raph’s face.  Spinning out of Pavel’s path, Raph brought his hands down on the back of the man’s head while lifting a knee into his chin.

           There was a _crack_ that signified a broken jaw and the man dropped without another sound.

           “Glass jaw,” Raph muttered.  “Figures.”

           A moan of pain brought his attention back to Anton, the undercover police officer.  Leo was kneeling next to him, using Evsei’s knife to cut the bindings from his wrists and ankles.

           The man’s eyes were swollen nearly shut, his lips ragged, face bruised, and there were several cuts on his upper body.  He was alive though, and that’s what counted.

           “Who . . . are you?” Anton asked.

           “Concerned citizens,” Leo said as Don and Mikey joined them.  “We’ll call the police.”

           “No,” Anton gasped out.  “Can you dial . . . a number for me?  My handler.  He’ll . . . know what . . . to do.”

           “Of course,” Leo said. 

           Raph dug a phone out of Evsei’s pocket and tossed it to his brother.  Anton gave him the number and while Leo placed the call, his brothers used the zip ties that Don had found to bind the three mafia members.

           It was hard for Anton to speak, but after he identified himself to his handler and gave him a code word, Leo took the phone and relayed their location.  The police handler tried to ask for more information, but Leo hung up without answering his questions.

           “Thank you,” Anton said.

           Don knelt on the other side of him and checked his wounds, determining that while as painful as Evsei had promised, none of them was particularly serious.

           “When your people arrive, tell them that in addition to these three men, there is another one in the restrooms, and a fifth on the other side of a sand dune near the car,” Don said.

           “I will,” Anton said.  “You  . . . won’t stay?”

           “Not our bag, dude,” Mikey replied.  “It’s way better if no one knows about us.”

           “I . . . understand,” Anton said.  “I take that . . . to mean it’s . . . not just my . . . blurry eyesight?”

           Mikey smiled.  “It’s totally your blurry eyesight.”

           Fast approaching sirens could be heard and Leo said, “Time to go.”

           The brothers leaped over the railings and into the water, swimming away from the pier as quickly as they could.  When they reached the area where they’d left their surfboards, they looked back and saw the flashing lights that indicated emergency vehicles had arrived at the pier.

           “Guess this means surfing time's over,” Mikey said.

           “For tonight anyway,” Leo said as he accepted a towel from Donatello.  “We can go again tomorrow night.”

           “How about we head over to Coney Island for some dogs and ice cream?” Mikey suggested.

           “I like the sound of that,” Don said enthusiastically.  “The crowds would have thinned out by now.”

           “Saving the good guy always gives me an appetite,” Raph said, looking at Leo expectantly.

           Leo smiled.  “Seems like a nice opportunity for a little stealth training.”

           “Couldn’t ask for a better night than this,” Raph said as they waited for Don to tuck their towels back into his duffel bag.  “There’s no greater summer fun than getting into a good fight.”

            “I’d say that was ninja style summer fun,” Mikey said.  “I love being a turtle.”

            The brothers retrieved their surfboards and headed back to the van.  They would follow Mikey’s plan and have themselves a late night treat.  If they played their cards right, they might even manage to sneak onto a couple of rides.

            No one had ever said that a ninja couldn’t have a good time.

End


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